


Eight Hours to New York

by sickly _sweet (sketchy_and_unformed)



Category: CKY (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, grown men acting like teenage girls, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-25
Updated: 2005-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchy_and_unformed/pseuds/sickly%20_sweet
Summary: “It’s been thirty minutes. It’s been thirty fucking minutes, Jess. Thirty minutes.”I could tell that he was struggling to keep his voice even and quiet. “I know,” I soothed, but in reality I was getting a little freaked. As far as I could tell we were no closer to landing than we had been an hour ago, and the snow just wouldn’t let up.Livejournal repost.
Relationships: Deron Miller/Jess Margera (implied)
Kudos: 1
Collections: Livejournal reposts: CKY/HIM





	Eight Hours to New York

“For fuck’s sake, will you guys come on? They announced our gate number ten minutes ago!”  
  
Chad turned slowly to face Deron, looking him straight in the eye.  
  
“The flight isn’t leaving for twenty minutes. Chill out.”  
  
With a slow, sweeping hand gesture Chad turned back to his conversation with Vern. I watched Deron, seeing how he couldn’t stand still and was visibly anxious. A deep frown was ever present on his face and he seemed to be staring through whatever he was looking at. Luckily this had all passed Chad by, or if he’d noticed he wasn’t making a big deal out of it. He might have assumed that Deron was being his usual tightly wound self, but I knew differently.  
  
Deron leant a little closer to me, speaking in a low voice.  
  
“I just want to get this over with as quickly as possible.”  
  
I winced sympathetically and squeezed his hand for a fleeting moment that no one else could have noticed. He nodded with a half-second smile, but the fear never left his eyes. We weren’t even in the plane yet and already Deron was so tense. Vern and Chad were busy enough picking through each other’s hand luggage and analysing the merits of a cup of airport coffee. Just then a bored sounding woman announced over the PA that we had ten minutes left to board. Picking up my bags, I sighed and braced myself for an uncomfortable flight.  
  
⋄✧⋄  
  
Take off and landings were always the worst. Once the plane was comfortably cruising at high altitude, Deron was usually pretty settled. I knew this because we always made sure that our seats were together. Deron knew that at the very least I would keep my mouth shut and pretend not to hear the panic in his voice or see how tightly his fingers were gripping the armrests. I guess that he didn’t feel comfortable or familiar enough around Vern yet to allow himself to reveal what was in all reality his most highly guarded secret in his presence. Chad was another matter. He pounced on weakness, and Deron couldn’t stand to be vulnerable. It’s never fun being picked on for an irrational fear. We all have them. Bam’s, for instance, has always been snakes. But when Bam, and Chad, and others, find out about somebody else’s weakness, they waste no chances in exploiting it for maximum humour and humiliation. I’ll be honest, I usually find it funny. But Deron is different. I don’t think he’d be able to take it, strong as he is. Not this.  
  
Vern and Chad had the seats directly behind ours, on the right hand side of the plane. I sat by the window as usual, and so did Chad, although for an entirely different reason. Deron freaks out a little if he can see the sky because he thinks the plane will drop out of it. Chad just likes to see all of the tiny people and cars below as we take off and feel superior to them. Or at least, that’s the way I’ve always taken it.  
  
Take off was no more stressful than normal. Deron gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, a couple of beads of sweat trickling down his temple. But only I could see that.  
  
Once we were in the air, we talked with Chad and Vern, making stupid jokes and insulting the other passengers amongst ourselves. Vern and I drank a beer or two each, while Chad and Deron stuck to scotch. It was kind of boring, like any other flight, with the eight hours until we’d reach New York laid out ahead of us. After maybe an hour we were all listening to our personal stereos and leafing through books or magazines. Deron even slept for a while, which doesn’t happen much on planes, even though the rest of time we have to throw water over him just to wake him up for a sound check. Well, okay, we don’t _have_ to, but it’s more fun than yelling his name for ten minutes until he finally gets up. I have my own unusual ways that I would like to wake Deron up, but I haven’t tried them out yet. I don’t think his reaction would be very favourable.  
  
We watched a trashy in-flight movie after maybe four hours. The food was edible but pretty nasty. Ho hum. Business as usual.  
  
There was no turbulence, to my relief. Deron is hell during turbulence sometimes. It’s hard to deal with. But as we were coming in to land, it started to snow. And not just light snow either; the really heavy, almost impenetrable stuff, like in all of those Christmas movies.  
  
Snow plus planes usually doesn’t make for a lot of fun. I’ve been stuck in the departures lounge for hours due to snow delays before. But when you’re already in the air, it’s a little different. It makes it difficult, or in this case impossible, to land.  
  
And that was when the fun started. Fun in the most sarcastic sense of the word that you could possibly imagine.  
  
⋄✧⋄  
  
“ _Attention passengers…uhh, we have about thirty-five minutes of flying time left before we run out of fuel._ ”  
  
I frowned and sat up straighter. “What the fuck?”  
  
A strangled noise drew my attention to Deron beside me. His magazine had dropped to the floor and he had visibly paled. He turned to me with wide eyes.  
  
“Did you hear that? Did you fucking hear that?”  
  
I nodded, trying to formulate a comforting sentence.  
  
“But I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I mean…” I trailed off, a puzzled frown on my face. “Why the fuck would he tell us that?”  
  
I jerked at the sharp sensation of Deron’s fingernails digging into my wrist. His voice was frantic.  
  
“We’d better fucking land soon, Jess. Fucking tell them to land the fucking plane.”  
  
I shrugged helplessly. “It’ll be fine, I promise.” My words sounded hollow and meaningless even to me. I focused my attention on the fat snow flakes falling outside as we circled low over the city, just because I couldn’t stand to see the terror on Deron’s face and be unable to make it go away.  
  
Things didn’t get any better. After twenty minutes Deron started twitching. Thirty minutes and he was as white as a sheet, sitting bolt upright and staring straight ahead, trying not to shake. Without looking at me he reached out for my hand again and gripped it urgently.  
  
“It’s been thirty minutes. It’s been thirty fucking minutes, Jess. Thirty minutes.”  
  
I could tell that he was struggling to keep his voice even and quiet.  
  
“I know,” I soothed, but in reality I was getting a little freaked. As far as I could tell we were no closer to landing than we had been an hour ago, and the snow just wouldn’t let up.  
  
I glanced through the gap between the seats. Chad’s seat was empty so I guessed he was in the bathroom, and Vern’s eyes were fixed onto the safety procedures that came as standard tucked behind the in-flight magazine. I flipped up the armrest between Deron and I and pulled him in towards me. He didn’t resist for once, and I heard him let out a whimper as he curled himself right into my lap. His arms went around my neck and he buried his face in my chest. I hugged his body against me and I could feel him shivering.  
  
Ten minutes later we still hadn’t landed. Deron’s shivers had increased in intensity, and he was mumbling against my t-shirt in a steady stream of words.  
  
“I don’t want to die. Jesus, I don’t want to die, Jess. I don’t want to fucking die.”  
  
I murmured in what I hoped to God was a calming way, rocking gently with him in my arms like a terrified child. Pretty much everyone on the flight was spooked to some degree by now. Somewhere behind us I could hear a woman chanting to herself in a similar way, repeating “It’ll be alright. It’ll be fine. It’ll be alright.” I didn’t think that Deron could hear anything where he was. He was fighting not to sob and his breathing was rapid and sharp, almost hyperventilation. I hated to think what must have been going through his mind right then. I pressed kisses to his hair, my arms wrapped tightly around him and not budging.  
  
“I wouldn’t let you die,” I whispered, and for a second Deron’s shaking lessened. His breathing levelled for just a moment. For once in my life I’d managed to say the right thing when it really counted.  
  
Suddenly his blue eyes were staring up at me.  
  
“I know,” he whispered, and out of nowhere his lips were against mine and his hands were fisted in my hair painfully. I closed my eyes and stroked his back slowly, more than keeping my promise to myself not to let him go.  
  
⋄✧⋄  
  
We managed to land with no problems in the end, although half of the passengers on the flight looked like zombies by the time we’d left the plane. Deron managed to pull himself together enough to avoid any questions from Chad, and nothing else about the trip was unusual in any way.  
  
Later, we would often tell people the story of how we got told that we had thirty-five minutes left to fly, and forty-five minutes later we were still in the air. Bam thought it was hilarious and most people found it a little surreal but still funny. Deron even told people about it himself, with no details of his own reactions, because nobody else had to know about that. But I knew. Our eyes always met as he spoke, and there was that flash of recognition in his. We never talked about it, but we didn’t need to. For the most part, I was just glad that I’d been there for him, even if I’d been totally useless most of the time. I could tell that he was grateful for it, as well, and that was all the thanks that I needed.  
  
Really, it was.


End file.
